I thoroughly enjoyed the Chevening Alumni evening at the residence of the British High Commissioner and Mrs Erica Archer in the gardens of Villa de Giorgio. Zena Edwards’ smart recital was appreciated very much as was a sharply delivered speech by His Excellency. I shouldn’t think he is a man who will fluff around but will get down to business.

Has Mrs Archer given the cooking team new canapé recipes I wonder? I was not the only one to notice this and several of those present who are habitués of cocktail parties and receptions, liked the new look and taste of the so-easy-to-handle-pop-into-the-mouth-without-fuss canapés.

The 14 juillet came and went and this year the French ambassador and Mme Rives held the celebration at Selmun Palace Hotel.

Friends kindly volunteered to give me a lift which made the evening so much more pleasant. Selmun is considered by my Fiat Uno, to be rather far away for its advanced age, so a lift in an air-conditioned car with lively company was more than welcome.

Plenty of Francophones, Francophiles and well-wishers turned up to this most civilized occasion. It is so pleasant to look at those who make an effort and dress for the occasion and so disheartening to look at the few who don’t bother and look unkempt, totally unfit for the occasion. This shows a lack of respect for the hosts.

It was cool and there was ample space to walk around and meet friends and acquaintances which, life being what it is, one only sees once or twice a year. I loved the Eiffel Tower in white, red and blue balloons, the singing – both the ‘live’ singers and the taped French songs, including some Piaf – always a favourite. Waiters were kept busy dispensing food and drink. His Excellency spoke in French, English and even Maltese – this has now become almost normal for ambassadors to say at least a few words in our language.

It was a most enjoyable evening with the smart gendarmes at the door and guests generally in a good, lively

14 juillet mood.

Late in the evening the remaining guests – and there were quite a few of them – moved to another part of the garden where a platform had been raised and where Caroline Fullana, the dedicated lecturer in French, all set to fly out to France to visit her mother early the following morning, had organized an enthusiastic bunch of young people to give us a lively show. There I met some of my Labouristi friends and we tried to have a little chat in spite of the singing and playing.

M. & Mme Rives are clearly going to leave their own special mark at the French embassy.

A friend of mine told me that I should not be listening to all this sad news on the radio, first thing in the morning. But even if I didn’t, although it would be difficult to break a lifelong habit, once I arrive at my desk and pick up our paper, it is full of bad news anyway. This is worse because the news on the first pages is often local news and happening right under our noses.

We’ve all been following one story after another of the driving test bribery scandal unfolding: of people employed as examiners who should never have been recruited.

Driving tests were subject to bribery even in my youth. I remember going for driving lessons with a friend of mine. Our fathers would not allow us to go alone in those days. In fact my father really would have preferred it if I had spent most of the day on my knees, rosary beads in hand, contemplating the seven deadly sins and the ten commandments. Buying my first car, I was soon to find out, was to be another long-drawn out battle.

Once the lessons were over, the driving instructor asked us, without any embarrassment, whether we wanted to go through the driving test, early in the morning, weaving the car in and out of barrels and possibly failing it one or two times; or would we opt to bring a bottle of whisky to give to the examiner, which would buy us a driving licence, whether we were qualified to drive or not.

My friend, her eye firmly on her boyfriend’s new car, opted for the whisky bottle alternative.

Not out of virtue particularly but because I was secretly planning to purchase my own car next, I chose to take the test. I did not simply want a licence. I wanted to learn how to drive. I passed the test the third time round, which was much more expensive than a bottle of whisky but on the whole safer, although forever after my Citroën 2CV was baptized ‘The Yellow Peril’.

My friend was to bash her boyfriend’s brand new car the first time she took it out for she had no idea how to use the brakes.

So, all those years ago, you got your driving licence in exchange for a whisky bottle. Now, what with inflation and the test being harder, your licence would set you back Lm80 and more.

Bribery and corruption seem to be the order of the day though some of our columnists never touch these matters, which are of concern to us all. Perhaps our ministers should learn something from Frederick the Great when employing people and not just reserve posts for their cronies and their relatives. Frederick William of Brandenburg-Prussia was once asked why it was that he chose his officer corps only from the Junkers of Prussia, rather than other groups. Why not a clever baker's son from Dresden? What's wrong with a solid farmer from Pomerania?

"Nein," he replied, explaining his preference for the Junkers: "Because they will not lie and cannot be bought."

Frederick William put an emphasis on quality in his army right from the start. Promotion was by merit alone and discipline – frequently lacking in the mercenary armies that had been based in Brandenburg-Prussia – was stern but fair. Soldiers in the army knew that they had a regular income. Those in the army were loyal to Frederick William.

Great empires depend on a reliable professional class of military officers, administrators and businessmen. Britain had them when it ruled the waves. They came out of the public schools of Tom Brown's School-days, and were packed off into the Her Majesty's civil service. Many were incompetent. But few were dishonest.

Ministers and Parliamentary secretaries cannot engage people who have the scent of easy money floating in their nostrils. The fumes of it seem to intoxicate them; a heavy whiff...and they're ready for an offer; ready to bamboozle the public; men to whom the lure of money is irresistible. For some Wealth without Work – or as little work as possible – seems to be their life credo.

Are you surprised that the cheque I wrote most reluctantly this week was addressed to the St Julian’s Local Council for Lm30 for a ‘speeding violation’? My young one, in my car, sped through the Regional Road tunnels at 57Km/h instead of the stipulated 45Km/h. It was certainly her. A photograph was attached to the Notice of Contravention and there was her fluffy hair, over-speeding along with her. What a waste of money! I would have been happier had I sent it to Sister Agnes.

Of course I cannot send a similar Notice of Contravention to one of the local councils for the half a dozen or so punctures I have had to repair because of the state of the roads. This is what they mean by ‘one way traffic.’

I am so sorry I simply could not make the demonstration in Valletta yesterday. However, over 700 turned up including a delegation from the Labour Party. Astrid Vella said it loudly and clearly. There were many more of us at our desks or at home looking after their family, who did not turn up because they could not, but were there in spirit.

Astrid calculated that at least another 10,000 agree with these environment organizations and are not only demonstrating but also signing a petition to government and protesting about the unrestrained building taking place in Malta and so much else. The building has to stop. There is no scope, except to those who are greedy and want more and more, to build more, whether beautiful or ugly buildings. Not until all those empty dwellings are rented out or sold. On the Super One news which I try to watch every day, Astrid said it loudly and clearly, and Gerald Fenech reported it in our newspaper today: land owned by the Church in Gozo has been sold to two priests in partnership with another two individuals for speculative purposes. Worse, they are pushing hard for it to be included in the new development boundaries.

I thought priests were supposed to be unworldly and help us look after our souls? What are these two doing speculating on land?